We Go Deeper
by rochesters
Summary: McCoy likes to egg Christine Chapel on. (WARNING: Gratuitous smut)


**We Go Deeper**  
By Rochesters

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Author's Note:** This is meant to be a deleted scene from the first chapter of Between Two Points. It can also be read as a standalone story.

"I want to hear you scream my name," McCoy tells Christine in a husky voice as he brushes his lips against her naked skin. His fingers are ghosting around her left nipple, tracing feather light circles around the yielding flesh.

He glances up at her, watching her reactions in the dimly lit bedroom and how her skin seems to glow in low light.

He hears her moan. "And if I don't?" Christine counters as his lips _barely_ touch her right nipple. She arches up against his body for more skin to skin contact, her soft and taunt skin against his stomach, her hands running through his disheveled hair.

"Something tells me that you will," McCoy says just before he starts sucking on her nipple. His tongue swirls around the pebbling nub as his mouth applies a gentle suction, just enough to drive his nurse crazy. His left hand travels down her torso as Christine writhes and chokes out a plea for more.

McCoy gives her more because he's a gentleman and he doesn't want to make the lady in his bed angry. His hand disappears between the apex of her thighs where he feels her slickness on his fingers - a commingling of her juices and his cum. He swirls the very tip of his finger at her opening, igniting a cry from Christine's lips before he strokes her slit, teasing and taunting her as his tongue works her nipple.

"Leonard," she breathes, fisting his sheets with tightly shut eyes.

He lifts his eyes and sees her biting her lower lip, her teeth drawing over the pink flesh in the most tantalizing manner. He thinks about all the time he's seen those pouty lips, but not noticed how much he wants to kiss them, suck on them, and conquer them with his own.

If experience and age weren't on his side, McCoy would have to cease all foreplay and go straight to fucking her silly.

"Can't hear you," he tells her matter-of-factly as he leans over her left nipple, blowing on the tawny areola and watching it react.

Christine shoots him a dirty look. "Bastard," she hisses through gritted teeth.

"Finest bastard," McCoy counters as his fingers brush against her already swollen clit. The pad of his index finger circles around the fleshy knot, lighting Christine up in a series of incoherent moans and begging. "I may have to play with this some more," he tells her as he keeps rubbing his digit against her clit.

Christine squirms underneath him. "Leonard!" she cries out, her hand tugging on his hair.

"Almost there," he quips as he starts planting kissing down her body. "Try saying a few octaves louder."

She just moans in reply.

McCoy chuckles as he presses his lips just above her pelvis, making Christine jerk at his touch. "Are we a little eager, darlin'?"

Christine rises up on her elbows with an arched brow and a smirk on her kiss swollen lips. She tilts her head as she surveys McCoy, her hair falling over her shoulders in tousled waves. "I've been waiting since the Academy to get you in bed," she says with blunt, Tequila-laced words. "So yes, _Leonard_, I am a little eager."

McCoy is dumbfounded as the minx in his bed watches his reaction. He arches a brow before crawling up her body, forcing Christine to lay flat on the mattress. "Since the Academy, huh?" he says to her.

"Don't act so fucking smug," Christine purrs as she pulls him down for a heated kiss.

When they part, McCoy laughs at his nurse. "Well had I known…" he says nonchalantly, egging her on.

"Oh shut up," Christine tells him. She shakes her head at him as she wrinkles her nose. It's both adorable and alluring. "Now go back to what you were just about to do."

McCoy gives her another kiss, brief and sweet, before obliging Christine. "You've opened Pandora's box," he tells her, huskily, before dragging his tongue down her slit, tasting her sweetness and his own musky fluid. He grips Christine's hips as she arches her body, bowing to him and his ministrations, and shoves her back down on the mattress as his tongue flicks its way to her clit.

"Jesus…fucking…" Christine moans as his tongue licks her swollen clit. "Leonard!"

Her voice, nearly shredded, rings across his bedroom and McCoy thinks to himself, _That's more like it._

His tongue is lapping at her, teasing her clit and the surrounding folds, and buries himself in her sex. Christine's hand has his hair by the fistful as she struggles to buck against the hands on her hips. McCoy's tongue drags to the base of her clit and flicks at it unerringly.

"Leonard, don't stop…" Christine pants from somewhere above him. "Leonard…please…"

He decides that he likes hearing her beg and applies more pressure with his tongue. McCoy listens to her anticipatory gasps and moans until he brings Christine right over the edge.

"Leonard…" she cries out just as she climaxes on his tongue. His tongue gains speed and pressure, coaxing all McCoy can get out of her.

It seems to do the trick because Christine, always cool and collected, is now screaming his name as he continues licking and sucking on her. She doesn't try to pull him off of her (a good thing because McCoy really wants to stay buried face-first between her legs) as he wrings out a second and third orgasm.

When he comes up, kissing his way back to her with wet lips and slick skin, Christine is completely debauched and laid out on his bed, limp limbed and panting.

"What the hell was that?" she asks him as McCoy nibbles on her collar bone.

"A religious experience by the sounds of it," McCoy quips before kissing her deeply. She swats him on the rump and giggles into his mouth as he deepens the kiss, their tongues dancing against each other.

When they pull apart, Christine giggles, "Had I know you had such a talented tongue, I would've rented a private room in Fletcher for our study sessions."

"Oh?" McCoy says as his erection brushes against her thigh. He lets out a groan as Christine parts her legs to accommodate him. "You'd want me to take you in your cadet reds?"

"I still have them hanging in my closet," Christine offers lightly.

McCoy lines himself up, feeling the heat of her sex against his head, and groans as he pictures Christine back in her cadet reds - the high collared jacket, short skirt, boots, and that stupid hat - as he bends her over the desk in his living area. "Don't tempt me, woman," he growls.

Christine laughs as she pulls him in for another kiss, wrapping her legs over his hips and egging him on. "You like that, don't you," she asks him (but isn't really asking him) as McCoy pushes into her without preamble. He swears he hears Christine groan his name, but blood is roaring in his ears and he's not sure of much as her sex, slick and hot, swallows his dick whole.

He stills for a moment because McCoy is sure that if he moves he'll spontaneously combust. McCoy wills himself to slow his breathing and not make an ass out of himself, especially in front of her. "You know what they say about the quiet ones," he groans as he starts thrusting into her.

"You," Christine retorts, "are _not_ quiet."

He silences her with a hard roll of his hips. "Neither are you," he responds as he repeats the motion, hitting an angle that lights Christine up. "Case and point, lady."

"Be quiet," Christine orders as she pulls his head down to hers, "and fuck me like you mean it, McCoy!"

Of course he obliges her because McCoy would be an idiot not to.

Later, _much later_ (give or take a few multiple orgasms), McCoy is laying on his stomach and puffing, his arm draped over Christine's waist as she lays on her back. They are both sweat slick and spent, loose limbed and wrung out.

McCoy has no idea what time it is, nor does he care. His dick is going to be sore in the morning and he's fairly certain that the last round of very aerobic sex left his balls dry for the next week.

"So _that's_ a religious experience," he hears Christine say, causing him to let loose a hearty laugh into the tangled sheets that sparingly cover their naked bodies.

McCoy glances at her and laughs again as Christine makes eye contact with him. She is all flushed and glistening skin, wild hair, and glazed over eyes with a silly grin on her lips. "Your words to God's ears, darlin'," he tells back to her, watching her scoot over to him so that they pressed up against each other.

"And apparently whoever lives next to you," she adds.

McCoy snorts in amusement as he reaches for a lock of hair that brushes against Christine's shoulder and wraps it around his finger. "Their problem, not mine," he says sleepily.

Christine hums in agreement, her eyes closing as she leans her head against McCoy's forehead. "You should be proud of yourself," she whispers to him.

"Is that so?" McCoy replies as he closes his eyes.

"Your hands aren't the only steady appendage on your body," she tells him.

McCoy grins to himself. "Well," he says in a humbled tone, "that's just practice."

"Hmm, I bet," Christine yawns. "Thanks for coming out tonight, Len."

McCoy brushes his lips against her temple. "My pleasure, Chris," he replies against her hair. "Figuratively _and_ literally, of course."

"Of course," Christine agrees with a laugh before they both drop off into a peaceful oblivion.


End file.
